Extrahard

I tend to be a beast when it comes to lyrical feats
Tend to revamp the game when my peers try to leech
Tend to reconstruct my frame when life feels like defeat
And death seems right, man I start scribing with the write hand
Hoping that I'm right man, keep pushing forward
Forget all those slow bitches, keep closing doors
Forget all the past like I passed all them before
Hearing everyone one of them claim they love me more than the next one
Trying to make me pick and choose between the best one
Because I may be close to broke now, but they know I'll be the next up
They see it in my haircut, lookin' like it's airbrushed
Having them clammer over me when they finally see my dressed up
No joking, I finally put the humble back
Seemed to find myself through writing about my troubled past
If that's not easy to see
Maybe hindsight is clearer when when you try to look back
Who am I, who do I be? -- been across four seas
Learned with time everything can be foreseen
Funny how they always 'of course' me, but later on when I ask them again
They act like my question hit the wind;
Like they never knew why they hadn't had floor seats
Maybe it's because they portray themselves poorly, but I doubt it
Saying they make money en mass like they landed on money without it
That makes nonsense, and niggas stay proud of it
C'mon man, we all know you're still childish